Just Ring the Bell

 The streets were dark and vacant. By 4 AM even the most hardy of party-goers had sought refuge in quieter gatherings. For August, there was a certain odd crisp chill to the air. Jason glanced down to check his phone's GPS, which by now he was fairly certain must be wrong. It had told him to take 6 right turns in a row, which would have been fine had they not all been around the same block.

   Currently the screen confirmed that he had arrived at his final destination. Jason looked up only to see a set of non-descript brick apartments, cement stoops every few yards. There was no sign of, well a sign of any sort. He looked back to his phone, but now instead of a map with instructions there was a strange error message:

                     Error 394- It's too late to be out and about in the city, go to bed!

Then it promptly shut itself off with a beep, Jason laughed, really? cellphones that give parenting advice now? Good grief. It was a night full of strange messages, he flipped the business card out of his breast pocket that he gotten earlier in the night and checked for clues.

                                 Friendly Armoire's
                                    37 N Birmington
             The Red door between the third and fourth stoops
                               Just Ring the Bell

That seemed much more informative than he remembered. Before he swore it only had the name of the establishment and the address. Jason walked down North Birmington counting stoops; one, two, three, and there it was- a little red door with a buzzer beside it. He pressed the buzzer for a good five seconds, then waited. As he waited he thought not for the first time that becoming a collector of high end furniture had been an odd hobby choice. This piece and one more would complete the living room set, but what then?

   On the other side of the little red door there was a series of thumps, followed by a crash and whispered cursing. The door was opened by a man who seemed impossibly tall for the door's diminutive size. He was wearing a tailored suit and had cold grey eyes. "Your rang the bell.", more of a statement than a question.

    "Yes, I mailed about looking for a specific piece, I was told to come close to four, so here I am."

The tall man squinted, "But you rang the bell?"

                "The card said, 'Just ring the bell' so I did as it said"

"I will ask you just once more, so we are absolutely clear: you were the one who rang the bell and no one else?"

   " Yep, that would have been me", Jason replied, slightly exasperated.

   They entered a small hallway lined with candle-lit lamps. The hallway ended with a stone fireplace that was roaring and crackling. The tall-suited man stepped up to the fireplace and quietly said, "Floor three, please."

  The fire itself began to rise through the ceiling, a scorched elevator door was left in its place. The interior of the lift was singular. The walls were blue stainless steel, the ceiling was covered in an acid green shag carpet. For such a high end place, the proprietor sure had interesting taste, Jason thought. They began to descend, slowly lowering the two men underground.

   The blue box stopped its descent, opening its doors to a room with walls lined with massive aquarium tanks filled with exotic marine life. They walked towards the end of the room towards a cedar door that seemed utterly out of place, but honestly by now what would seem normal in this place?

  "Holy...! Was that a hammer-head shark?" Jason exclaimed

     "Perhaps, we recently lost track of the aquarium inventory." The tall man replied as he ushered Jason through the cedar door.

  "Thank you, Anderson, that will be all for now.", came the voice from a disheveled man from behind the desk. Anderson turned to leave, "Wait one moment, Anderson. Mr DuMay, I'm sure you're a tad tired at this late hour, I know I certainly am. How does coffee sound?"
     
                                                            "That sounds wonderful.", Jason assented

 "Two turkish brews, Anderson. Thank you" The tall man nodded than disappeared back through the cedar door.

    "I understand you're looking for a particular piece Mr. DuMay, looking at our catalogue we have five options for the piece you're looking for. Ahh, Anderson that was quite expedient, I don't know what I would do without you."

   Jason took the large cup of Turkish coffee and began to slurp the rich, caffeinated sludge. "Of the five options how many do you currently have in stock?"

    "Good question, let's see", he flipped through a large binder full of laminated pages that could only be the catalog, "As I search I have two things I should have cleared up earlier. First, I was rude and didn't introduce myself. I am Mr. Friendly, but you may call me Charles. Second I don't deal with most customers on this floor, but I had fallen asleep and had to rush to get ready. Usually guests only get to see the more demure fourth floor. Alright, we seem to have four in stock, I am willing to part with any of these three." Mr. Charles Friendly slid the catalog across the desk to Jason with three elegant armoires circled. One was pictured as four foot, white washed. The next: six foot, antique treated, three feet of depth. The last one had brass feet, five and half feet, with a holly exterior and glazed maple interior.

    "I will have to go with the last one." Jason laughed, "The brass feet make it absurdly perfect."

"Commendable choice, that piece was originally commissioned by a twelfth century Duke. I understand he cherished it greatly. And yes, the brass feet are an rare addition, I understand the Duke had an interesting sense of humor."

   "I like a piece with a rich history. Now, can we talk payment options?" Jason asked

"I'm afraid so far as payment options go, well I do not accept Visa, nor Mastercard, nor cheques. I used to do only cash like those mafioso gangsters on the other side of twon, but that started bringing in a certain undesirable group of clientele. You wrote me asking if I had a more unique class of armoires. But in writing to me I deduced that one of my associates had given you my informations. They would have only done that if you they had seen you as a trustworthy young man. Now, Mr. DuMay, are you a trustworthy young man?"

   "Well, I'm sitting here in the middle of the night in an office that seems a touch more fantastic than a Bond villain's lair and I'm clamly drinking rich Turkish coffee, its very good coffee by the way. What exactly did you have in mind Mr. Friendly?"

   "There is a man who owns a Van Gogh that has never been seen by the public that I would very much like to have. If you were to obtain the painting in the next few days, the absurdly brass footed piece would be yours."

  "Fair enough." Jason said shaking Charles Friendly's hand.

                                                        ....

   That is how Jason DuMay came to be standing on a rooftop on 84th st. two nights later. He held a grappling hook in his right hand, the attached rope in his left. He hefted the grappling hook and swung it round and round, releasing at the top of the arc.  The three pronged metal hook lazily drifted over the street, alnding with a dull, metallic "clank" on the opposing roof. Jason pulled the rope taut and secured his end. "Here's to Van Gogh and high end furniture!", Jason muttered before sliding through the night.